


Fawkes Fortune: Leading the Lambs to Slaughter

by Toodaloo



Series: Fawkes Fortune [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chapter 1, Intro, Multi, Overwatch - Freeform, fawkes fortune
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7605613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodaloo/pseuds/Toodaloo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamison is a suit. He doesn't like people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fawkes Fortune: Leading the Lambs to Slaughter

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 of an AU I'm rewriting based off of an RP with CelestialSiren on Tumblr! Get updates and stuff over at Toodalo0.tumblr.com!

_Proverbs 28:13  
13 Whoever conceals their sins does not prosper, but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy._

_I am not a religious man. I am not a servant of god yet I am bearer of many sins. Those who have weighed upon my world and broken my back will come to know what it’s like to suffer- to dread. For revenge is a dish best served flaming hot with a bullet between the eyes. Little do they know what they are in for. They have no idea they are nothing but mere lambs being lead to slaughter, and I am their shepherd._

_I am their shepherd, their lifeline, their safety. I do not wish to put their trust to waste. A man’s loyalty is unlike anything else in this world. Loyalty stems from friendship, lust, and can even be swayed by the paper in one’s pocket._

_I am not a religious man; yet I am a bearer of many sins._

Jamison Fawkes: the sole child of Noah and Charlotte Fawkes. The sole heir to the Fawkes Fortune. The sole child of a family so rich and so powerful that Australia itself quivers before them. A child so brilliant that many an adult cannot best him in the games he plays. Chess, reading, writing, even biochemical engineering- he was a master at it at such a young age. Some called him a prodigy: a gift from god, a man who could save Australia from being the desolate wasteland that was creeping on it’s edges.

Others called him ruthless. Cold- calculated- unempathetic- a man who wanted nothing to do with the land or it’s people. Many believed him to be a psychopath as he had little to no remorse for his actions and by the way he treated others. He had little interest in interacting with others and preferred staying inside those massive doors, spending countless hours reading and rereading the books lining the shelves in his study.

Jamison was a leader and he knew it, abused it, and marveled in the power that it gave him. There were a few problems however, which included his greatly ill father and the shrew-with-makeup that he was forced to call his step mother. The old man just simply couldn’t die fast enough, and the gold digging thing that daddy-dearest called his ‘beloved’ wouldn’t disappear from his life. 

The kid turned twenty five a few days ago. The Fawkes Estate held a massive party like they do every year. Thousands of people attended, far too many gifts were given, and the house was crowded with these things called people. The center of attention of course was Jamison himself, who couldn’t walk more than a couple of steps without being congratulated or talked to. He found himself growing bored of the situation, yet knew he couldn’t weasel his way out of it. The buzzes of conversation and merriment were quickly silenced with a gunshot- three actually. The barrel of the gun was pointed at Jamison, yet he sustained no damage. There was a massive news story about it, countless reporters, and even more fame for the Fawkes family. 

Much to his displeasure he was forced out amongst the ‘Cities’ as the Suits called it. He was forced to interact with them, answer questions, and even make statements himself. One particular reporter asked about him hiring a bodyguard, seeing as his previous one had quit months beforehand.

He shook his head and waved it off with a reply of, “I see no reason as to have one. Security simply wasn’t high enough.” To which his father cut in, “Yes, he will be hiring one, and immediately.” The kid rolled his eyes and groaned audibly into the mic. That meant more press. More coverage. More people. The press conference was finally over after two incredibly long hours. Noah and Jamison made their way back to their limousine with few comments, while the Jessica-Rabbit like woman who trailed behind them had more than enough to say. 

She feigned worry for her step-son and put on an excellent facade for the public. Grace, as she was so lovingly named, begged the public to give her son the best bodyguard that it could offer. “It’s so my little Jamie can stay safe!”

“Grace, get in the car.” 

The black-haired woman scowled at the twenty five year old before ducking into the safety of their car. Jamison pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply. “I don’t understand why you have to put on such a show. The Fawkes name is flashy enough without all your charades.” 

“Jamie, darling-”

 

“Jamison.”

Grace cleared her throat and continued, _“Jamie, darling,_ I know you don’t like making public appearances, but you have to live up to the family name.”

 

 

________

 

The Fawkes mansion was too big for it's own good. A minimum of four stories high with countless winding halls, rooms, doors- it was all too big. Those who walked amongst its halls quickly found themselves lost without a guide. The ceilings were as almost as tall as the kid’s ego, and the hallways were a decadent cherry wood with the most beautiful and expensive of red carpets.

The hallways were adorned with various priceless pieces of art. Each one was unique and bought from all over the globe: France, Germany, Belgium, even Sweden. Large glass lights were hung from the ceiling, which gave the home a more brilliant lighting. Once stepping inside the massive double doors, one would find themselves in an even more massive front room. It was a large space where the rich would spend a good part of their time at the dinner parties; walking amongst the white tile floor, gathering around the kitchen to drink fantastic aged wines- you name it.

To the left was a hallway with countless rooms, mainly for the staff and nurses who took care of Noah Fawkes. To the right was the absolutely beautiful and gargantuan kitchen where the highest paid chefs created the most spectacular of foods, and in the middle was a massive staircase that split into two, both leading upstairs. 

Due to Noah being wheelchair bound, Jamison reigned the upper floors of the mansion. This, was his sanctuary- his home, where he dwelled. The heir to the Fawkes fortune didn’t like being shut in doors as a child, but due to his father’s demands of schooling, studies, this, and that, he had found himself becoming more and more shut in. His room, which was as large as any of the others, was growing old. Growing stale. He needed something new to freshen up his world.

His father talked nonstop about getting him a bodyguard. Jamison continuously shrugged it off as his father being overprotective, and spoke against it quite a bit. He finally gave in and scheduled a day off of his ‘oh so busy week’ to hire someone.

The day was leaked and became the talk of the city. One couldn’t go into a shop and not hear about it, nevertheless walk the streets. Jamison Fawkes, the son of Noah Fawkes, the sole heir to the Fawkes Fortune, was looking for a bodyguard. It spread from New Sydney to all across the continent. There was only one problem: Could these men and women tolerate such an upscaled brat?

The day had finally arrived, and Jamison was not too happy about it. He grumbled to himself and stood up tall as his father wheeled behind him.

“I do hope you realize this is for the best, Jamison.”  
“Yes Father, I know.”  
“You have to choose the one you think is best.”  
“Yes Father.”  
“Make sure they have some form of resume or background history with this sort of thing.”  
_“Yes, Father.”_

They approached the beautiful double doors which led to his office. Jamison swung one of them open with ease, and stared at the grisly, weary old man that was his father. “I got this, alright Pops?” He flashed his father one of his famous grins. “Just leave it to me.”

He slammed the door shut behind him and locked it so he wouldn’t be disturbed. He checked himself over in the mirror to make sure he ‘held up’ to the Fawkes’ family name. A neat fitting black suit, white undershirt, and a red tie all matched together, complete with expensive black shoes. His hair was neatly combed to the side and shot, not on fire and wild like some junker. Jamison ran his fingers through his golden locks and opened the front door to his office.

There, his orange eyes were cast upon hundreds or people who had crowded the front room. He stepped out and one by one he inspected them, already beginning to cast some of them off. Jamison didn’t take very long, as he knew what he wanted. A little over an hour later, the hundreds upon hundreds of people who were there were cut down to only a handful.

“Alroight Gents,” The boy placed his thin fingers on his thin hips. “Ya all made it past tha first round, congratulations,” he spat. “Now we get to the fun part,” He clasped his hands together and smirked, “Spendin’ me precious toime interviewin’ each n’ every single one’o’ya.”


End file.
